Dragon Age: Torchwood 1-2: Pointy-Eared Street Punks
by Bloodsong 13T
Summary: Medieval Elves in modern Cardiff... how will they cope? More importantly, how will Torchwood cope with them?
1. Unfinished Business

**Dragon Age: Torchwood Episode Two "Pointy-Eared Street Punks"**

**Chapter 1: Unfinished Business**

_CONTENT:_

Rating: Mature

Flavor: Action/Adventure/Comedy/Drama

Language: maybe

Violence: no

Nudity: no

Sex: no

Other: none

Number of Gratuitous Jack Deaths: 0/0

_Author's Notes:_

This picks up just about where "End of Days" left off. (The DA:TW "End of Days," not the canon "End of Days.")

Absolutely nothing important happens in this episode; the elves just get settled in. Unless you consider hot Jack/Zevran action "important." In which case, stay tuned.

Note: My Brain insists that Ianto lives in an apartment above the Tourist Shop. Yes, I've seen the Tourist Shop; it doesn't have two storeys. Let alone three, because my Brain also insisted that Bannon & Zevran get the apartment on the floor above Ianto's. I can't correct this, because many future plots depend on them being up there. I've made it a bit more manageable by putting the kitchen on the same level as the Tourist Shop (sort of a private back room), and fitting Ianto and the elves' apartments on the floor above.

* * *

**Unfinished Business**

===#===

The debriefing lasted nearly an hour, mainly consisting of a long laundry list of damage done to the Hub, the vehicles, the city, and the rest of the world. Ianto had work order forms for Jack to sign, which he did while complaining to Gwen, "I was out four days and you didn't stage a coup? I'm disappointed in you."

The double shifts he'd assigned everyone would help in the weeks of clean-up to come, an added bonus. He didn't really blame them for their actions. They'd all been duped, enticed by the one thing they most desired. But his team still seemed skittish and guilt-ridden. Punishment would help them get back on an even keel.

Jack was feeling much better, and quite stuffed after making a pig of himself on the meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and gravy. "So," he said, looking to Tosh, "shall we check up on our departed guests?"

She nodded eagerly and punched up their GPS trackers on her laptop. She breathed a sign of relief. "They're in the Plass."

Jack frowned slightly. "I thought they'd get further than that."

"What could they be doing up there?" Gwen wondered.

Ianto said, "Perhaps they're busking. Putting on a little show of medieval swordplay for the tourists."

"Well, we can find out," Tosh said. "They're in range of the water tower camera." She activated the controls to extend the camera, then panned it around. Ianto, Gwen, and Owen watched the screen behind Jack. Toshiko frowned. "I don't see them."

Ianto said, "Maybe they mugged someone for civilian clothing?"

"Look for some long-haired weirdoes," Owen suggested.

"I _know_ what they look like," Tosh grumbled. Jack shot his brows up at her, and she flushed slightly. Eyes back on her screen, she muttered, "They should be right there. Wait a minute..."

Jack swiveled his chair around to look at the wall screen. Tosh flipped back to the GPS map, then superimposed an overlay of the Hub schematics. The view zoomed in.

"According to this," she said with dismay, "they're still in the loo."

Jack shot a look at Ianto, who met his eyes with the same look of shock. The office manager bolted out the door, followed by Gwen, then Jack and Owen.

Ianto burst through the door of the upstairs loo, and with a groan of dismay, went to the sink, which was piled with clutter. He fished out the two smart phones that served as GPS trackers.

"How?" said Jack. "They're from a primitive culture, _how_ could they know about electronic trackers?"

"I don't think they did," Ianto said, picking random items from the sink: a can of shaving cream, a safety razor, a tube of toothpaste. "I think they just rifled the packs and threw out anything they didn't recognize."

"Those elves are damned clever," Owen griped.

"Tosh!" Jack yelled back towards the conference room. "Go back thr-"

"Whatever you're about to say, I'm already doing it!"

The others returned to the conference room. Tosh was working away at her laptop. Owen, much to everyone's surprise, muttered something about washing up, and took the tray of empty food containers and coffee mugs out.

He must be feeling very guilty. Jack made a note to keep an eye on him. Ianto looked at a bit of a loss, but he didn't take the opportunity to gibe the doctor about his uncharacteristically altruistic behavior.

"I've got them!" Tosh said a moment later. "They actually haven't gone that far. They're sitting in the bus shelter in front of the Millennium Center." She looked up, and the others followed her gaze to the screen, where a CCTV camera showed the bus stop. A group had just disembarked and were milling around, and the two medieval swordsmen were sitting on the bench, garnering a lot of strange looks.

"Hmph," Jack snorted. He'd really expected them to keep moving, but this worked out even better. "I'll go talk to them. Ianto, draw up a roster for clean-up and repairs. Tosh: prioritize the list of alien problems to sift the most urgent to the top."

"What about the Defense Minister?" Ianto asked. "He's been demanding to see you."

"Fob him off a few more days; I have more important things to do than kiss up to the ministry. Tell him I'm still in a coma."

"You'd best not answer your phone then," Ianto suggested.

"You can keep fielding my calls."

"Yes, sir."

Jack grabbed his coat and strode to the invisible lift. He activated the controls with his wrist strap and rode up into the afternoon sun. At the top, he paused to take in a deep breath of the late spring air. Warm concrete, cold wet steel, and the underlying sea-smell of the wharf entered into his lungs, made him feel so alive.

Four days. That was a long time for his body to recover. Abaddon must have taken a lot out of him, but he was still here. Could he be slowing down? Perhaps the creature had drained his well nearly dry. Perhaps he was closer to a final death than he had been for two centuries. What ate at him was just _not knowing_.

If things went according to plan, he'd have the answers sometime soon. He scanned the Plass, looking for anything out of the ordinary, as a force of habit.

Then he shook his head and stepped off the curb.

===#===

Jack sat at the end of the bench, opposite the elves. Another bus rolled up to discharge and take on passengers. They must be confused, what with a World War II RAF Captain and a pair of Medieval Fantasy swordsmen, and nary a sci-fi convention in sight. Jack beamed a wolfish grin at some of the more persistent gawkers - not exactly the poster-boy grin of seduction, but one with a little mania thrown in, to scare them off.

The bus pulled out, leaving the smell of carbon monoxide fumes lingering in the air. Jack moved closer to Bannon, thought not _too_ close. "So, can't figure out bus fare, hm?"

The elf gave him a dismissive snort. Zevran, on the other side of Bannon, leaned his arms on his knees so he could watch the captain.

"Or even busses," Jack went on. "ATM machines, mobile phones, laundromats, television, the internet, fast food, internal combustion engines..." He thought a moment. "Banks. Do you have banks on your world?"

Bannon was frowning at the long list of unfamiliar terms. "What, like on the river?"

Jack chuckled. "No. There is a lot you guys need to learn."

"What is your point?" Zevran asked in his hot Latin accent.

"I'm just saying, it can be tough acclimating to a new world." He sat at his ease on the bench, just hanging out, having a casual conversation. He watched the street, but he was carefully studying the elves' reactions in his peripheral vision. Bannon didn't like being made to look stupid.

"Out of curiosity," Jack asked, "what did you guys do for a living back on your world?"

"We're Grey Wardens," Bannon said.

"What is it that Grey Wardens do?"

"We fight darkspawn. Stop the Blight. Slay Archdemons."

Zevran added, "Save the world, solve everybody's problems, do all the work... Sound familiar?"

Jack chuckled. "Funny, it sounds a lot like what we do in Torchwood." These Wardens did sound a lot like upstanding defenders of the innocent and other sundry civilians. He could definitely use them on his team. "What's a darkspawn?"

Bannon's dark eyes met his. "You don't have darkspawn here?"

"If we do, we don't call them that."

"They're Tainted creatures. Vicious... evil."

Jack gave a slight shake of his head. That could be anything from advertisers to zombies. "Monsters?"

"Monsters," the elf confirmed.

"When an Archdemon arises," his partner added, "it leads the horde up from the Deep Roads to Taint the surface world in a Blight. The Grey Wardens end the Blight by killing the Archdemon."

Before Jack could ask, Bannon said, "That's one really huge, Tainted, pissed-off, insane dragon, if you didn't know."

Jack tipped his head in acknowledgement. He thought back to the battle with the Allosaur. The aspersions that it was 'small' and 'didn't even have wings' came into focus. "You... you've killed an Archdemon?"

Bannon nodded. "Yeah."

"I helped," Zevran stuck in.

"With help," Bannon admitted a beat later.

"Damn, that's impressive," Jack admitted freely. Zevran grinned cockily, but Bannon's expression hardly softened. This guy was going to be difficult to manipulate. Zevran seemed far too easy, but Jack reserved judgment on that count. He'd already underestimated these elves once. "There aren't a lot of jobs on this world that match your skillsets. I know this is going to sound like a line, but the only one in town hiring monster hunters is me."

Bannon narrowed his eyes in a look of dark suspicion.

Jack shrugged. "Honestly, although you can do what you want, I think Torchwood is your best option."

Zevran said something softly, something in an unintelligible language.

Bannon waved him off with a flick of his hand, his hard gaze never leaving Jack. "Don't you already owe us for helping you? When are you going to send us home?"

"We can't do that," Jack said. Opening the Rift was bad, whether some gigantic alien demon was trapped inside it or not.

"Don't give us more of your bullshit," Bannon snapped. "First it's all how you're our friend, you want to help us. Then it's capturing us and stuffing us in your dungeon. Then more lies about how you'll help us if we help you; and now you expect us to come work for you? I know you can send us back, you have that magical device for opening the Veil."

"Whoa, whoa, easy!" Jack held up a hand. Clearly, that was not the way to handle this elf. "Let me explain. What I meant was, we can't _just_ open the Rift to send you home." What Bannon said was, in fact, true. But- "We need the exact coordinates, and we don't actually know where your world is." He took a breath. "So we need to do some research. In the meantime, you can subsidize this research by working with us."

The elf's eyes narrowed to slits at the use of the fancy modern lingo. "And you're such a trustworthy guy, we're going to take your word for it that there are no other mages in the whole world who could possibly help us."

"Okay; well, look." Damn, this guy was tough. "Try it for a couple of months. Once we get you up to speed on how this world works, you can do your own research. Wouldn't that be better than wandering off with no idea where to go, or how to find what you're looking for?"

Zevran leaned close to his comrade and offered another opinion.

Bannon rolled his eyes. "_Es un carretada de cazco_," he hissed back.

Zevran said something else, and Jack hoped Bannon would heed it, because it sounded like the blond was on his side.

"All right,"Bannon said, turning his full attention back to the captain. "But for these two weeks, we get paid in real gold coins, not vague promises."

Jack tried not to grin. "Ah, we don't use that for money, here."

"What do you use?" the elf scoffed. "Leaves?"

It was really difficult not to laugh. "Okay, the first lesson will be on money. In fact, I'll have Ianto take you shopping. You can pick up some local clothing."

The two elves looked at each other. Zevran quirked a sympathetic brow, and Bannon sighed. He muttered something disparaging, but the blond only laughed and said, "It is always the way, no?" He shot a grin at Jack.

"So, you're in?" he asked tentatively, not sure he should push it.

"Yeah, we're in," Bannon agreed sourly. "For now."

"Excellent." Jack got to his feet. "Gentlemen, if you'll come with me."

===#===

He led them back across the Plass to the water sculpture. "Stand on this block," he said as he took position on the invisible lift.

Zevran came and stood close by his right elbow, but Bannon frowned and hesitated. "Why?"

"This is the magic entrance to the Hub." He flipped open his wrist strap as Bannon moved closer. "And keep your hands out of my pockets."

Bannon snorted derisively. "Trust me, there's nothing in your pockets I would find remotely interesting."

Zevran sniggered, and Jack glanced at the persistently over-friendly elf. Hadn't he said they were both bisexual?

Jack shook his head and started punching in the code to drop the lift. "Hang on." He noticed Bannon looking at the controls on the wrist strap. It wasn't as if a medieval elf could figure out the controls, but a _clever_ elf might be able to memorize a sequence of keypresses. Jack obfuscated them with extra movements of his fingers. Let them try to memorize that arcane magical gesture.

The lift ran smoothly, but started with a bit of a bump. Jack was braced and ready. The elves kept their balance quite easily. The captain considered developing some tests of their abilities. Owen and Ianto could probably come up with something that would give them an idea how clever these two really were.

Some detailed reports from his team members, their impression of the elves, would be helpful as well. More paperwork, but this could be interesting reading.

He also studied the elves' reactions as the lift descended. They looked around with avid curiosity, and a keen analytical eye. Bannon looked up and watched the hatch close, probably trying to work out how that functioned.

They got to the bottom, and Jack ushered them up the spiral stairs towards his office door. He paused to ask his team, "Where have those two been staying?"

Owen said, "Well, we tried dressing up one of the cells as a hotel room, but that didn't seem to work." No matter how bad the medic's mood might be, it was just impossible to keep the snark down.

"They've been camping out mostly in the lounge," Ianto answered more seriously. "Also, the conference room."

"We'll need to get them some permanent quarters." Jack was about to suggest Ianto move out of the tiny flat over the tourist shop, but the Welshman beat him to the punch.

"I've divided off part of my place into a bedsit. They can stay there."

Jack blinked. He already had a solution? "What are you, Radar?"

Ianto shrugged. It was unclear if he got the reference. "After the _Sky Gypsy_ incident, I thought it best to be prepared."

"All right, good. I'll need you to take them shopping in a bit, help acclimate them. Especially get them out of that leather." Not that Jack didn't like leather. Or getting elves out of it. "Owen, once they get settled, they'll need full medicals."

He didn't wait for their acknowledgements; he trotted up the stairs behind the elves. They went into his cluttered office, and of all the strange and marvelous things therein, they homed in on the candy dish.

Zevran darted over, grabbed one of the colorful treats and lobbed it up in the air. He tipped his head back to catch it in his mouth. Bannon's hand shot out, snatched it, and popped it into his own mouth.

"Hey!" the blond complained. "I wasn't done testing that for poison!"

"Yeah you were, that's why you were putting it in your mouth."

"No, putting it in my mouth is how I was going to test it!"

"Guys," Jack interrupted the argument loudly. "Why would I keep poisoned candy on my desk?"

They looked at him a moment, blinked, then turned and raided the candy dish, hand over fist.

Jack rolled his eyed with a silent sigh as he closed the door. He hung up his coat and walked around the desk. He plucked the candy dish out of their reach, then bent and opened the bottom right drawer of his desk. He could see right away there was no room for the dish in there, so he expeditiously just dumped the candies in. He shoved the drawer closed, then thumped the empty dish back down in its spot. "Have a seat."

Zevran, his cheeks bulging like a chipmunk's, sank into one of the chairs. He chewed for a while. Bannon seemed to have been hoarding the candies in his hand and eating them at a more sedate speed. During the whole interview, he kept surreptitiously finding more candy in his pockets, while Zevran glared daggers at him.

Jack ignored them both a moment while he hunted in a filing cabinet for the Torchwood induction forms. "Tell me something," he said over his shoulder, once he was pretty sure Zevran could talk again, "What did you think of my team's performance while I was dead?"

There was a pause, as if they were weighing their words carefully.

"Well," Zevran said, his Latin accent identifying him, "I was not impressed."

"Toshiko kept working," Bannon said. "The two guys... they spent a lot of time cleaning up. Fixing stuff."

"Your woman, Gwen," Zevran continued. "She did nothing but... pine," he said with distaste.

"She was in mourning," Bannon said quietly to his partner.

Jack was a little torn between disappointment - his crack about Gwen staging a coup and taking command hadn't been a complete lie; he'd expected he to step up - and gratitude. The fact that she has been devastated by his death - his possibly permanent demise - touched him. Gwen was the heart of his team. Sometimes the heart was the strongest muscle in the body; sometimes it was amazingly fragile.

The ordeal with the Rift Storms and Abaddon had been above and beyond the ordinary, even for Torchwood. A little downtime afterwards could be expected.

He plucked two copies of form #1461217-62 out of the drawer and turned back to his desk. "Thank you, gentlemen. Now we can get on with your induction."

"Are we going to have to drink any disgusting concoctions?" Zevran asked warily. "Endure rigorous initiation torture?"

"We are _not_ doing any Blood Magic rituals," Bannon asserted.

All right, Jack made note not to mention the blood tests. "No, no," he assured them. "Nothing so 'medieval.' We just have to do paperwork." He slapped the stack of papers onto the desk.

The elves stared at them blankly, then with increasingly puzzled looks as they tried to fathom the meaning of that phrase. Finally, "What's paperwork?" Bannon asked.

"The bane of modern existence." Jack sat down and put the two forms side by side. He dug around a moment and found his pen, clicked it. "So, name: Last, first, and middle initial."

They looked at each other a moment, then shrugged.

"Arainai, Zevran."

"Tabris, Bannon."

"Any known medical conditions, diseases, physical handicaps, allergies, or debilitating phobias?"

Silence. Jack looked up. The elves shrugged and shook their heads. "Afraid of heights?" he prodded. "Afraid of water? Small, enclosed spaces? Being underground?" Still more head shaking. Jack repressed another sigh. "Look, this is for your own safety as well as everybody else's. If we run into a situation that might cause you to freeze up, it's better if we know about it beforehand. It's best," he emphasized, "if we know not to put you into that kind of situation at all."

"Bannon doesn't like dogs," Zevran offered.

"I am not afraid of dogs!"

"I did not say you were afraid of dogs. I said, you do not like dogs."

Jack started to write that in on the form.

"What are you writing?" Bannon demanded.

Jack looked at him. "What would you do if a big dog attacked you?"

"Kill it."

"All right. And if a big, goofy dog ran up on you and tried to lick your face?"

The elf gave him a flat look, which Jack interpreted as the same answer. "Doesn't like dogs," he intoned as he pretended to write that down. He glanced up expectantly, waiting for Bannon to return the blond elf's favor.

Bannon, however, only looked peeved and remained silent.

"Zevran?" Jack prompted.

"Hm?"

"Everyone's afraid of something."

The elf gave him a cool look with those amber eyes. "I assure you, I have not yet encountered anything that has managed to frighten me. When I do, I will let you know."

"What are you afraid of?" Bannon shot at Jack.

Damn, the elf had him over a barrel, there. "Nothing that interferes with my job," he insisted, only that wasn't quite true. Being lonely wouldn't keep him from throwing himself at a rampaging weevil, but he hated sending people to their deaths. In this job? They faced the danger of annihilation far too often.

"Suffocation, mostly," he hedged to the elves. "If I get stuck without air and revive... well, that's entirely unpleasant." Although nowadays, his team would know to retrieve his body from such situations. He hadn't realized the revelation of his secret could bring him comfort.

"How do you do that?" Zevran asked.

"Dunno," he answered truthfully.

Bannon didn't buy it. "Are you a Blood Mage?"

"No. I don't even know what that is."

"Were you cursed?" Zevran asked suddenly.

Jack quirked a brow. He hadn't considered that. "Maybe. I don't know." They still looked as if they thought he was hoarding the secret to himself, so he said, "Look, I died. Then I woke up. I don't know what the hell happened while I was dead, but I've been this way ever since."

The elves appeared mollified with this explanation. Meanwhile, Jack had to try one more time. "Zevran, you can't think of any situation you don't want me to order you into?"

He snorted. "I am an Antivan Crow."

"I don't know what that means."

Zevran deflated, his ego punctured. "I am one of the most feared assassins in Thedas. We _never_ fail to complete a contract."

Bannon seemed to choke a little bit.

"_I_ never-"

Bannon was definitely choking now.

"Fine."

Jack rubbed his forehead. "There's a burning building. I order you to charge in there. You're all right with that?"

"_Si._"

"Man, I hate being set on fire," Bannon said, in the droll tone that indicated he had, indeed, gone through exactly that.

"Oh, is not as bad as being frozen," Zevran scoffed.

"Are you kidding? At least ice doesn't damage your armor."

"Or your hair." Zevran went into a snickering fit. Bannon smacked him, ineffectively. He shut Zevran up though when he 'found' another piece of candy in his pocket and ate it.

All right, badass tough elves. A few missions with Torchwood would shake them down soon enough. Jack skimmed through the rest of the form; most of it was not applicable anyway. Country of origin, citizenship, vaccinations, next of kin. Languages - no help because none were from Earth. Or any major galactic civilization, for that matter.

Jack considered chucking the whole thing. He'd already decided to hire these two under the table. They weren't citizens of this planet, so there was no reason for the Defense Ministry or the Crown to even know about them. He didn't expect any trouble from the British government, but... that's when trouble tended to bite you in the ass, wasn't it?

If he didn't at least keep local paper records, Ianto would have a two-headed calf, so he muddled through. Afterwards, he let the elves take a break while he worked with Ianto. They'd have to fudge some numbers to cover the elves' expenses. Right now, they didn't have any. Their room and board were folded into the expense of running the Hub. Their medical needs would be taken care of in-house. Jack had Ianto set up trust funds for them, for the eventuality of their integration into society. If they lived that long.

The requisitions for repairs after the Rift Storm incident would hide a lot of extra money. Ianto suggested citing the re-outfit of the Torchwood ice cream truck.

"Ice cream truck?"

"A second official vehicle would be useful," Ianto replied, deadpan. "Perhaps call it a portable refrigeration unit."

He was so clever, Jack put him in charge of all the repair requisition forms.

"Is there any particular reason for not making the elves official Torchwood operatives?" Ianto asked mildly.

"No, not in particular." Jack stretched to ease his arms and back. "Let's just say I don't like having all of my eggs in one basket."

Ianto nodded. Nothing more needed to be said. For now, the office manager had a field mission to the mall. He went to gather his trainees.

===#===

Gwen poked her head in the door. "Jack? Can I have a private word?"

"Sure." He was bent double in his chair, trying to pick pieces of candy out of his bottom drawer. They'd probably melt or something in there, and if Ianto found a mess like that, Jack would have to endure one of his disapproving looks. Some bad coffee. Maybe Ianto would even cut him off.

Gwen closed the door and moved to the front of the desk, wringing her hands nervously. "I didn't want to mention this, because I don't know what it means... And I'm afraid it means something bad." She paced back and forth while he sat up to look at her with concern. "It's just that, keeping secrets from you, that's how we landed in that last mess."

This was sounding worse by the minute. Jack dumped the candies he'd rescued back into their dish, and shoved the drawer shut with his foot. "Go on."

"I don't think Bilis is dead."

"Because...?"

She faced him. "Rhys is back."

"That's..." His mind darted through so many possibilities, branching out to so many outcomes. "That's impossible."

She held up a hand, and he let her explain. "After I left the flat, when we found Rhys gone..." When she'd practically decked him, and not for the last time. "I went back to the clock shop. I met Bilis there. He told me that if I helped open the Rift, that Rhys would return."

"He was lying, Gwen. He was only manipulating all of you, to trick you into releasing Abaddon."

"I know. But what he actually said was, 'I promise the one you love will be returned to you.' And then, after everything was over, I got a text. I can't find it in my message history now, but I saw it plain as day. 'I always keep my promises,' it said. Signed 'B.'" She took a breath. "A moment later, Rhys called me. He was home, with no idea that anything had happened to him at all."

"He was gone," Jack said, softly but firmly. "Whatever came back..."

"Look, I know what you're going to say! It's not him. It's some kind of alien, a doppleganger, or he's possessed by some demon, or he's a robot, or an hallucination or... or... whatever." She leaned towards him over the desk, her eyes fixed on him. "Believe me, I have thought all this already. And I've looked! I've searched for any sign he's not himself." She straightened. "And there are none! It's _him_, Jack. I can swear to it."

He rubbed his face. "You're not exactly the most unbiased observer."

"Do you think I _want_ to be duped?"

"No. But- All right, look. We'll bring Rhys in. We'll run a battery of tests. If," he stressed, "he passes, we'll give him some retcon, bundle him up, and send him home, none the worse for wear."

She frowned, no doubt thinking of the alternative outcome.

"You have to prepare yourself," he told her. "If anything is off, we can't take any chances."

"It's not Rhys I'm worried about," she said, though clearly that wasn't exactly true. "What if Bilis comes back? What if he thinks I still owe him something? Or worse, if he threatens Rhys again?"

There was some advantage to having no emotional ties, Jack mused. They could be just one huge weakness. But he had to admit, Bilis had gotten to them all somehow, anyway. Aloud, he said, "We'll deal with Bilis when and if he ever shows up again. Frankly, if the only reason for his existence was to free Abaddon, well... his job is done."

"What about revenge?"

"That could be tricky." Jack shrugged again. "But like I say, he shows his turnip head around here again, we'll deal with him." He stood up. "As a team." He emphasized this with a strong look.

A bit of tension went out of Gwen at his assertion. "Right. As a team." She tipped her head. "Bilis did get to every one of us, Jack. But not you. Isn't there... I don't know, someone, something that would have influenced you?"

He thought about it a long moment. He knew the Rift was dangerous; he believed opening it was a greater threat than anything that might come out of it. Would anything change his mind? "Maybe... the right kind of Doctor." His eyes unfocused as he thought of the past and what might be the future. _Where are you?_

===_X_===

* * *

End Notes:

_"What are you, Radar?"_

-Radar, from M*A*S*H. You know, the guy who always knew what people were going to ask for before they asked for it? That's why they called him 'Radar.'

_Outtake: The Interview_

Jack: Name: last, first, middle initial?  
Zevran: Arainai, Zevran.  
Bannon: Tabris, Bannon.  
Jack: In one word, describe yourself.  
Zevran: Awesome!  
Bannon: Smart.  
Jack: Describe your dream man/woman.  
Zevran: Well-  
Bannon: ::smacks him to shut him up:: Wait a minute! ::stands up and shakes fist at the ceiling:: Bloodsong! I told you, I wasn't doing any more of these stupid interview questionaires unless the interviewer was good-looking and sexy!  
Jack: Hey, I'm good-looking and sexy!  
Zevran: I agree. ::making eyes at Jack::  
Bannon: ::smacks Zevran again:: You are not; you're a big fat shem!  
Jack: I am not fat!  
Bannon: Well, you're a big huge shem!  
Jack: Hmm... 'Huge.' Now there's an adjective I can live with. ::grins!::  
Zevran: ::drools::  
Bannon: Okay, you two finish this scene, I'm calling my agent...! 


	2. Pointy-Eared Street Punks

**Chapter 2: Pointy-Eared Street Punks**

_CONTENT:_

Rating: Mature

Flavor: Comedy/Drama

Language: maybe

Violence: no

Nudity: only wet half-naked elves (m)

Sex: snogging, foreplay, segue (m/m)

Other: none

Number of Gratuitous Jack Deaths: 0/0

_Author's Notes:_

More elves settling in. No, it's not in this chapter YET!

If you enjoy Dragon Age: Torchwood, remember to also check out the Dragon Age: Torchwood clips. "Called on the Carpet" goes with this episode, and there will be a few more clips dealing with various aliens and stuff stuck here from the Rift Storms. (If I ever write them. I always have plans, they just don't always happen! In a timely manner...)

Note: future entries in this episode may appear as chapterlets. Also, several may be posted at once. Don't use the "" button when new parts come out, use the chapter list to get to where you last left off.

British facts and statements thereof checked by Kage Stratten. Except where I didn't. If I screwed anything up, blame him. Uh, I mean, all errors are my own! If they're REALLY stupid, point them out. :X

_Recap:_

The world has survived the End of Days, just a little bit worse for wear. Jack has revived after four days, to the relief of his team, and the elves stuck at the Torchwood Hub. Jack told them they could go, but they didn't get too far. After some food and a debriefing, and a misplacement of the elves' tracking devices, Jack went to offer them a recruitment speech.

Bannon and Zevran are Grey Wardens, fighters against evil monsters called darkspawn. They don't want to stay on Earth, but if they want to get home, the Torchwood 3 Rift manipulator is their only ticket home - even though Jack has no intention of letting it ever be used again.

After a tough round of paperwork, the elves are unofficial Torchwood operatives, off on an adventure at the local mall.

* * *

**Pointy-Eared Street Punks**

===#===

Jack looked down over the rail as Ianto returned from the shopping mission with the elves. The young office manager looked harried. In fact, he may even have had a few hairs out of place. It looked as if he'd been running his hands through it, or perhaps trying to tear it out. Wearily, he climbed the stairway to report.

"Ianto, I thought I asked you to get them clothing that would blend in."

Ianto sighed. "It's what they wanted."

Owen came by on his way from the greenhouse. He looked over the rail. "Ye gads, the 80's live."

Bannon had on black sneakers and charcoal cargo pants that had at least twenty pockets on them. His shirt seemed decent; Jack couldn't get a good look at it under the black trench coat that hung nearly to the floor.

Zevran had black and chrome motorcycle boots and, were those _leather_ pants? A red bandana circled his head, concealing his ear points. His T-shirt was black with some kind of heavy metal winged motif, and his short black leather jacket was liberally festooned with bright zippers.

"Seriously?" Jack asked. "It _had_ to be the Michael Jackson look?"

"Zevran is obsessed with zippers," Ianto began wearily.

He was interrupted as the exuberant elf bounded up the stairs. "Look at this! These little tiny metal bits! There is no way you can fit them together..." He demonstrated with one of the open zippers as he spoke." And yet you do this-! And they are now together in a solid wall you cannot pull apart! Not even a dwarven master smith could create such a marvelous thing! It is amazing!"

"Brilliant," Owen snarked as he tried to edge his way past the bouncing elf. Zevran ran off to show Gwen.

"And," Jack continued, "you thought it a good idea to feed that obsession?"

Ianto rolled his eyes towards Jack. "Since he was feeding his obsession by zipping and unzipping Bannon's fly, in public, and we did not want to get arrested... yes. Bannon and I unanimously agreed he should have that jacket."

Jack frowned slightly. It seemed odd for a new recruit - and an alien one at that - to be making decisions alongside an established Torchwood agent. But he shrugged it off. It was just a jacket, and no doubt a good idea.

Aloud, he said, "Tell me that's not all you bought them."

"Of course not, sir. Standard coveralls in various colours, work boots, spare trainers, an array of jeans and sweats, Tees, sweaters, button shirts, sundry undergarments... And in case of emergency, one dress suit each, in their size."

Jack pursed his lips and nodded. "It's about time for dinner; take them with you to Jubilee's." Ianto gave him such a hangdog expression, he quickly amended, "Maybe Gwen can go with you. Gwen!" he called down. She looked up, perhaps hoping to be rescued from Zevran's zipper demonstration. "When are you going to bring Rhys in?"

"Friday night. Should be able to get him to go out with me for 'something special,' and then recover over the weekend."

Yeah, that was if he passed the physical. Still, it was a good a plan as any. "All right. Go with Ianto and the elves to get pizza."

She nodded.

Jack turned to Ianto. "What? Get them to carry the pizza boxes for you."

"They don't do servant work."

"Why, what are they? Princes?"

"It seems elves were enslaved by humans for many generations. And 'city elves,' which they are, are often relegated to positions of servitude and labor."

"Hm." Jack filed that bit of information away. "Well, everyone at Torchwood pulls their own weight. Don't let them walk all over you. Remember, you outrank them." He grinned.

"I will try to keep that in mind, sir."

===#===

The troops gathered in the lounge area for pizza delivery. Owen slouched comfortably at 'his' end of the couch and Gwen joined him there. She had to scoot down to make room for Ianto when he and the elves set the pizza boxes on the coffee table. They were parceled out by the efficient office manager: meat feast at one end, and a lonely mushroom and olives for Gwen, Tosh, and Ianto.

Tosh hit save on whatever computer project she was working on and came over. She sat on the floor, cross-legged on the other side of the table, along with Bannon and Zevran.

Jack noted that Torchwood 3 might need more furniture as well as an extra vehicle. After so many decades, his little team of hand-picked recruits was growing. It warmed his heart, but he was not about to give up the leather couch in his office.

As for himself, he cleared a pile of magazines off the end table so he could use that as a makeshift chair. Gwen passed him a slice of pizza on a napkin from Owen's box.

The elves each had their own large pizza. They peered at the food with curiosity and twitching noses, enticed by the scent, though confused at the alienness of the design. Bannon watched Owen and Gwen, then figured out from there how to separate out a slice, fold up the tip, and take a bite.

"Careful, it's hot," Ianto warned.

That didn't seem to deter the elf as he sank his teeth into the chewy dough and gooey cheese. Zevran watched avidly.

"Not going to check it for poison?" Jack teased him.

Zevran shrugged. "If he drops dead, I will know it is poisoned, no?"

Jack snorted.

Gwen said, "Why would we give them poisoned pizza?"

Jack shrugged at her and started handing out beer bottles from the cooler.

Meanwhile, Bannon was clearly not poisoned, but experiencing some type of cheese-induced nirvana. "Oh," he moaned throatily. "Cheese..." He scarfed another bite.

Zevran looked tempted, but turned to make sad puppy eyes at Tosh. She paused in her chewing, then finished and swallowed. "What's wrong?"

"Could you show me how?"

"It's not that hard, just..." Tosh showed him how to pull up a slice and hold it.

Zevran leaned towards her moonily. "Feed me?"

"Ah, I think you're perfectly capable on your own."

The blond elf sighed. "Did you know, I am an orphan?"

Tosh frowned in sympathy. "I'm sorry."

"May I lay my head on your bosom?"

"No, Zevran." Tosh chomped on her pizza, pointedly shutting him down.

He looked over at Gwen.

"Not a chance," she said pre-emptively.

Owen said, "Do we have to have this at the dinner table?"

Whereupon Zevran made doe eyes at him. "May I lay my head in your lap?"

"Oh, hell no."

The gang had a laugh at that one, either at the doctor's expense or Zevran's. Bannon chided his partner to just eat, already. His food.

Jack snickered and leaned forward to put two bottles down between the boxes where the elves could reach them. "Do you have beer on your world?"

"It's like ale," Ianto supplied.

"Yeah, we have beer." Bannon picked up his bottle and studied the cap. He turned it nearly upside down, probably looking for the seal.

"Don't shake it," warned Ianto.

"This is the good stuff," Jack said. "No screw caps or pop-tops. These require a special tool called a bottle opener." Ianto handed the opener to him after Owen was done with it. The captain demonstrated its use, then tossed it across the table.

Bannon snatched it out of the air. Jack had to admire his fast hands and keen reflexes. It only took him a moment to get his bottle open.

Again, Zevran was content to sit back and watch, then try it himself.

Jack had to wonder about the actual nature of their partnership. At times, Zevran seemed subservient, but at other times, the two would almost be at each other's throats. If they were in a military order - those Grey Wardens - it was certainly a slipshod, undisciplined one. Or else the elves' relationship went deeper. But he hadn't seen any evidence of that, either. Zevran didn't seem to care if Bannon expired of poisoned pizza, and Bannon didn't even bat an eye when Zevran flirted shamelessly.

Except for the fact they came from different cultures, they could be siblings.

Both of them tested the beer and pronounced it good. Well, Bannon seemed to like it a good bit. Zevran scoffed that it was nowhere near as good as 'Antivan brandy.'

"So tell us a bit about yourselves," Gwen invited the elves after they'd slowed down on the food. They did seem determined to eat a whole pizza each. "What do you usually eat?"

"Meat," said Zevran. "Bread and cheese. Actually, this-" he eyed his pizza slice- "is a perfect union of all three." He took an appreciative chomp.

"Do you not have any vegetables? Fruit?"

"Turnips," Bannon muttered. Zevran choked and fell over for no apparent reason. His partner ignored his conniption. "Um... beans, corn, tomatoes. Potatoes." The elf shrugged.

Gwen said, "Yeah, men usually aren't too keen on those for some reason." She shot Jack a glance at him and his meat feast pizza slice. He was sure she meant Rhys.

"We have apples mostly in Ferelden," the elf continued. "And pears. Sometimes grapes."

"Strawberries," Zevran added, recovering and sitting up. "And we have oranges in Antiva. They are the most sweet, the most succulent..." He licked his lips, making them gleam.

"Do you have any favorite foods you like?" Gwen asked.

"In Antiva, we have fish chowder."

"Ugh," Ianto opined.

"Well, Antiva is really the only place to get a proper bowl of fish chowder."

"I like sausage," Bannon said. His partner started sniggering, so he kicked him, both hands being preoccupied with lifting another floppy slice of pizza to his mouth. "And bacon."

"Do you like any sweets?"

"They have a predilection for candy," Jack noted.

"Cookies," Bannon said, chewing.

"Mmm, snickerdoodles!" Zevran agreed. "And pie!"

"Apple pie."

"I prefer cherry."

"You would."

Zevran snickered and polished off his beer. "Is there more?"

Jack looked at him. "How many would it take for you to get drunk?"

"Are you trying to get me drunk, captain?"

"Just the opposite, trust me."

The elves shared a look, and a shrug. "On this?" Zevran asked. "Two jugs, at least."

Good to know. The elves seemed to have a decent alcohol tolerance, at least. He passed Zevran another beer.

Gwen went on with the get-to-know-you chatter. "Tell us about where you're from. You're from... different countries?"

"I am from Antiva," Zevran said with patriotic pride.

"We could have guessed," said Ianto. The elf did have a bias for 'Antivan this' and 'Antivan that.'

"Antiva City is the greatest, grandest, most beautiful sparkling city."

Bannon continued, imitating the accent, "Antiva City, capitol of Antiva, on the Antivan River, overlooking Antiva Sea."

Zevran punched him in the arm. "And he is from Ferelden, a cold, wet, muddy country that smells entirely of dog."

"But...," Bannon prompted him.

Zevran ducked his head between his shoulders like a recalcitrant child.

"Ferelden is better than Antiva, _because..._," the other elf continued prodding him.

Zevran sighed and answered in plodding rote. "Because they do not have slavery."

"Right!" Bannon munched his pizza crust in triumph.

Tosh said, "They have slaves in Antiva?"

"Oh, not _human_ slaves," Zevran replied with sarcasm. "That would just be uncouth. Only elves are fit to be slaves, my dear."

"Were you...?" Tosh chewed the inside of her cheek.

"A slave? Indeed! My mother sold me to the Antivan Crows when I was six."

This dire pronouncement was met with silence around the table. Bannon shot his partner an unguarded look, but it was too brief for Jack to read it.

Meanwhile, Zevran was making a sad face at Toshiko. "Perhaps now you will find it in your heart to let me lay my head upon your bosom?"

"That's inappropriate," Tosh tried. She flushed and looked away.

"Slavery," Owen said in disgust. "It's barbaric."

Zevran shrugged and said with a careless air, "I was worth quite the exorbitant sum! And of course the Antivan Crows got more than their money's worth from me." He grinned.

Owen said, "These Crow blokes, that's assassins, right?"

"_Si_."

"You're an assassin?" Tosh said with some alarm. She must be the only one who hadn't heard the elf bragging about it yet.

"_Si!_ I am the best there ever was!"

And now she was an official member of the club.

Ianto said, "But you're not a slave any more. You could do anything you want. Be anything."

"Why would I want to be anything else? I was trained my entire life; my skills are unmatched."

Owen said, "You could learn new skills. Why stick with... killing people?"

"I enjoy it."

This was met by silence of a different nature. Then Gwen cleared her throat and said, "We don't assassinate anyone here in Torchwood."

Zevran quirked a brow, then looked at Jack.

Gwen also turned to Jack, only her brow wasn't quirked, it was knitted accusingly.

"Well," he hedged, "maybe dangerous alien lifeforms."

That made Gwen's look go steely. Her jaw dropped slightly in a silent huff of annoyance, and he was sure he was going to get an earful about it later.

She turned back to Zevran. "We try not to kill anyone, unless it is the last resort."

Zevran shrugged. Clearly he had his own idea on how often killing was necessary.

"What about you, Bannon?" Jack asked. "You like killing things?"

The elf shrugged noncommittally.

Jack frowned. The last thing he needed were thrill-killers. Then he calmed and reminded himself that they were from a primitive society, where it was probably socially acceptable to settle disputes with swords. That would explain their blase' attitude about it.

Gwen steered the subject back to the elves' homeworld. He hoped she wasn't going to dwell on this too long. It was good for breaking the ice, but the sooner the elves put aside their past ties, the better.

"I'm from Denerim," Bannon said. "Capitol city of Ferelden. I think it's the biggest city in the world."

"Hmph," Zevran interjected. "Antiva City is bigger."

"You think everything of yours is bigger," Bannon said, rolling his eyes. "Anyway, I don't think it's as big as this place."

"Our city is called Cardiff, in South Wales," Gwen told the elves, filling in some local culture. Along with the rest of England, Scotland, and Northern Ireland, we make up the United Kingdom."

"You have a king?" Zevran asked.

"We have a queen, Elizabeth the Second."

"Do you have a king?" Ianto asked the elves.

Zevran chuckled, and Bannon said, "Yes, we have a king." He couldn't keep his mouth from twitching in amusement, though.

"He doesn't sound like much of a king," Jack said.

"No, it's not that. He's a friend of ours."

Zevran grinned. "Ah, we knew him when! Do you remember the look on his face when he saw the picture of him I painted on his tent?"

"I'm so glad that washed off."

The elves shared easy laughter. Jack's heart sank, just a bit. Despite the primitive conditions of their world, and how much nicer the conveniences of Twenty-first century Earth were, it was going to be hard for them to face the fact they could never go home.

===#===

Informal pizza dinner was a relaxing affair. Then all too soon after, it was cleaning up and tidying. At last, as evening drew on, it was time to get the elves settled into their apartment for the night. Ianto couldn't wait.

As he'd told Jack, he'd already sub-divided his apartment above the tourist shop. It wasn't large to begin with, but really, what did he ever use it for, but to sleep? He didn't require a lot of room. The kitchen was downstairs, alongside the shop; they could all share that.

Ianto looked at the kitchen now, mentally cataloguing potential problems. Stove: Gas burning. Potentially fatal by poisoning the air or burning the place down. Pantry: requires knowledge of use of can openers, probably including a sidebar on electricity. Plus, how to heat the contents of a can? Microwave: explosions.

"This is the refrigerator," he said, moving to the relatively safe large appliance. "The doors of which shall remain closed at all times when you are not directly accessing it." He swung the door open and peered inside along with the elves. They would need to get more fresh fruit and vegetables in. Some lunchmeat and cheese should also work.

"This is where you keep the beer," Zevran noticed right away.

"We're meant to be moderate in our imbibing."

The both of them just gave him a pitying look.

Ianto closed the refrigerator. "If you get peckish during the night, here is the bread." He demonstrated how the plastic clip worked to open and close the bag.

"Oh, you cut it already," Bannon noted. He looked impressed by the thin, regular slices.

"It is very pale," said Zevran, clearly not used to bleached flour.

Ianto contemplated the toaster and all possible resultant disasters. Well, he'd install fresh batteries in all the smoke detectors. "If you would like it toasted, you put the slices in here, and press down this lever until it catches." He did so, then manually released it. "When it is done, it wll pop up, and there's your toast." The elves looked impressed. "Do _not_ stick any knives, forks, daggers, or metal implements into the toaster."

"Why not?" asked Bannon.

"It's very dangerous. You could be killed."

The elf snorted. "We _can_ cook, you know. Usually without killing ourselves." Zevran snickered at his sarcasm. "Where's your wood pile?"

"We do not use wood for cooking, we use gas, and it's very dangerous."

Zevran shook his head. "Why is everything in your house so dangerous?"

"The danger is mitigated by knowledge," Ianto said. "Look, when you were little, didn't you learn not to grab a pot off the fire, or it would burn your hand?" They nodded. "Well, we learn that as children, and also not to leave the gas on, and not to stick forks in the toaster." He sighed wearily. "I'll teach you these things, but not tonight." Tonight, he was utterly knackered. Elf-sitting was like baby-sitting seventeen-year-old toddlers. All he wanted was a hot shower and some quiet time curled up in bed with his current novel.

To help forestall midnight kitchen disasters, Ianto grabbed a bag of pretzels and a bag of crisps, and took the elves upstairs to their apartment. It was very small - or 'cozy' as the realtors would call it. It had a sitting room with a couch, a battered old coffee table, a chest of drawers, and a desk with a chair.

The other half of the apartment was taken up by the bedroom, containing a double bed, a pair of vertical chests of drawers, a closet, and a three-quarters bath.

Ianto set the snacks down on the coffee table, while the elves looked around their new abode like a pair of cats. "There's only one bed," Ianto ventured, looking at their faces for some reaction one way or the other, "but the sofa folds out, if needed."

Zevran peered through the bedroom doorway. "It looks big enough."

Bannon shrugged. "We don't take up a lot of room."

Well, that was completely uninformative. Ianto knew that in medieval times, travelers paid for a bed at the inn, and then piled in as long as there was room for a body. Sometimes four or five or more. The elves' personal lives weren't any of his business, anyway.

He followed them into the bedroom to point out the bathroom amenities. "This is your personal toilet facility. You are solely responsible for its upkeep and cleanliness. We do not have maid servants." _And I'm definitely not either_, he added silently.

"This is your hamper," he went on. "Soiled clothes go in here. We'll learn about laundry in a day or two."

"We have laundry on our world," Bannon griped.

"Not like this, I am sure," Zevran said eagerly. "It must be that magical laundry you are always after Wynne about."

"These are your toothbrushes. I'm sure you clean your teeth on your world, too."

"Mm, these are nice," said Zevran, not being shy about checking them out. Though Ianto could stand a little more respect for his personal space in the small room.

He ignored the elf as best he could and turned to the shower. "This will be your bathing facility." Before they could ask or complain about anything, Ianto ran down how to work it. "...adjust the hot and cold mix, and then in you go. When finished, be sure to turn the faucets off fully."

He wasn't sure the elves heard that last bit, as they were staring in awe at the spray raining down.

"How long until it runs out?" Bannon asked.

"It won't. But the hot water is stored in a heated tank, and if you empty that, you'll be having a cold shower." Ianto shut off the water. "Now, you can wash up. Your clothes are in here..." He brushed past them and pointed out the closet and drawers. "And I'm sure you're ready for a good night's sleep."

"Nah," said Zevran. "We had candy."

"Yeah, we'll just stay up all night."

Ianto felt his face go slack. "Oh God, no." They wouldn't sleep? Up _all_ night? Getting into mischief? Who was going to watch them? Because Ianto was at the end of his rope. Dangling from the frayed end! "All right, well... wash up, at least." He had to think of something! Aha!

He hadn't thrown out that old portable television; it was stuffed in the bottom of his closet. He wrestled it out and brought it over to the elves' apartment. He meant to get them their own computer and internet - someday, but this would do for now.

Bannon watched him set it up, then Ianto explained how to work the magic picture box. Zevran came out of the shower, quite wet, his long hair down, black tattoos glistening, and a nipple ring glinting along with the water droplets. Wearing a pair of sweats _very_ low on his hips. And, Ianto was fairly certain, nothing else. Not that he was staring. Looking. Whatever.

"Safety rule number one: water and electricity do not mix. Not happily. Zevran, use a towel!"

But the bronze elf couldn't tear his eyes away from the images on the screen. "Is... incredible," he breathed. His partner stared, mouth agape.

Perfect.

"You can watch this all night. Enjoy, gentlemen."

Ianto made his escape. _God help us_, he thought. He headed straight to his own shower before the elves returned to their senses and used up all the hot water. He skipped the novel and just collapsed into bed, hoping the tourist shop and apartments would still be intact when he woke up.

===#===

Zevran leaned back on the couch, tipping his head to drain the last drops from the pilfered beer bottle. 'Pilfered,' because Bannon had snuck downstairs to retrieve them, but really, hadn't Ianto said he and the elves would share the kitchen? That meant everything in it. Although the human had also said they were supposed to be 'moderate in their imbibing.' Four bottles was moderate. If Ianto complained about those, well... that was definitely the pilfering thief's fault.

Bannon came out of the shower, padding barefoot on the thick rug that covered the whole floor. Zevran's keen senses alerted him to the elf's approach; he turned his head to catch sight of his partner.

And what a sight it was. He was still damp from the shower, water beading on his shoulders and chest. His arms were raised to towel his long hair, delineating the lean muscle of his torso. The bejeweled ring in his left nipple glinted.

Bannon ambled around to join Zevran on the couch, draping the towel across his shoulders as he did so. "These pants are really soft," he noted. Zevran had to agree. Despite their shapelessness and lack of utility and durability, these 'sweat pants' were as soft as a lamb - not like rough leather or stiff linen. And Zevran had to admire the tented bulge at the front. The soft, warm fabric against his own bare skin left him feeling quite elated, as well. The corner of his mouth curled.

Bannon sat beside him, his knee pressing Zevran's leg. Zevran put the empty bottle on the table, then leaned in for a lingering kiss. Bannon's tongue tip touched lightly along the underside of Zevran's lip. It tingled faintly, and Zevran showed his appreciation by toying with Bannon's ring.

Zevran's nipple perked in sympathy, his own ring vibrating minutely as the thief's thumb caressed it. Bannon's other hand slid, slowly, down the ridges of Zevran's abdomen, down, down between his legs, applying warm pressure over the fuzzy cotton.

"Did I ever mention how lucky I am?" Zevran murmured against his lover's mouth.

"Mmm... only several _hundred_ times."

Zevran chuckled. "But what a marvelous place we have landed in, no? Such food, such drink. Such wonderful magics! That showering device! Truly, it is heaven, and I hope to never again suffer the monstrosity of those stone pig troughs you Fereldans use to bathe in!"

Bannon's face darkened. "Zev, we have to get back. My family..."

Zevran frowned. He himself had no family, and frankly, considering how Bannon's had treated him, he couldn't understand the other elf's devotion to them.

"All our friends are there," Bannon said, changing tack. He knew Zevran had no attachments. "Our responsibilities."

Zevran scowled and pushed Bannon's hand away. He looked at the antics of the tiny people inside the magic box.

Bannon sighed and pulled away slightly. "Think about Alistair. Maker, you want to leave him in charge of Ferelden on his own?"

Zevran was not swayed by the humor. What did he care, anyway? If the whole nation of Ferelden collapsed, what difference did it make to him? Things would happen, the world would carry on. It hardly mattered what one elf did.

Didn't Bannon see? Zevran was finally, _finally_ truly well and away from the Crows. They simply didn't exist here. He could stop looking over his shoulder, waiting for a knife in his back. He could walk down a street without concern about being stalked and shadowed, buy a meat pie without worry someone had paid off the vendor to slip some poison into it.

He was the greatest Antivan Crow, a legend. The only one to escape the clutches of that organization. Bannon had bought him amnesty, but any Crow looking to make a name for himself would love nothing better than to claim the infamy of being the one to slay the legend.

Zevran was a marked man. But not here. Here, he was truly free.

"Zev." Bannon tugged at his arm and spoke his name more insistently. He met those dark eyes that looked intently into his face. "Look, none of that is more important than you. If some demon popped up and showed me two portals, and said that through one was my family, my life, the whole world; and through the other was you - I would give that all up and go with you. In a heartbeat."

It was almost impossible to tell when the thief was lying. Zevran searched his face, searched the mysterious depths of his eyes, but knew it was futile. He also knew, beyond any doubt, that his lover's words were true.

"But we can get back," Bannon went on. "Together. Maybe not right now, but... eventually." Bannon clasped his hand. "We're important," he said with conviction. "Think of the arlship. The future of our people - we could make it so much better. We have the power."

Zevran lowered his eyes. "There are no Crows," he said, hating the sound of a petulant and frightened child in his voice.

"Aw, _lethallin_..." His hand cupped Zevran's cheek. "You're not worried about _them?_"

Zevran shook his head, but said nothing.

Bannon chewed his lip. "You really want to stay? For... the rest of our lives?"

Zevran could hear the tension in his voice. Bannon was facing that demon right now. Facing that choice between everything in the world that he held dear, and the one that he loved. If Zevran said yes, the choice would be made. After all they'd been through, there was no room for doubt in Bannon's conviction to be with him.

Still... could Zevran deny him even the slim hope of return? Of course not. He released his tension in a sigh, then chuckled dryly. "Not forever, no. But is a nice vacation, _si?_" He grinned and met Bannon's eye. "Besides, we cannot leave until we figure out how to rig one of these showers up at the Keep!"

"Just one?" Bannon leaned forward, his hand drifting now to Zevran's thigh. "Hell, I'm going to figure them out and sell them to everyone!"

Zevran found his grin came easier with his partner's greedy attitude. Trust a city elf to look out for ways to acquire coin!

Now Bannon was looking at him with those soulful eyes. His tongue ran slowly back and forth along his upper lip, and Zevran's grin edged towards a leer. He leaned back sidewise against the arm of the couch to allow his lover to continue where he'd left off.

Another thing they were going to need before they went back would be a bale of these amazing pants. They stretched so easily, it was like magic getting them on and off. Zevran rested his hands lightly on Bannon's muscular shoulders as the elf bent over him. He let his head loll back and his eyes drift closed. A contented sigh escaped his lips.

_Such a lucky, lucky elf._

===_X_===

* * *

**End Notes:**

_"Mmm... only several hundred times."_

- 5,000 Bloodsong points if you know Daemon's response to Mike the TV, here. From the ReBoot movies/specials. Yes, I stole her joke. It's hilarious!


	3. Orientation: You Need ID

**Dragon Age: Torchwood Episode Two "Pointy-Eared Street Punks"**

**Chapterlet 3.1: Orientation: You Need ID**

_CONTENT:_

Rating: Teen

Flavor: Action/Adventure/Comedy/Drama

Language: maybe

Violence: no

Nudity: no

Sex: no

Other: none

Number of Gratuitous Jack Deaths: 0/0

_Author's Notes:_

It's another day of getting settled into the Torchwood routine for our elf boyz. (No, not YET, stop asking!)

As indicated... uh, somewhere, I'm experimenting with chapterlets, for smaller updates more frequently.

I can't remember which band did this song. Anthrax? I don't think so...

* * *

**You Need ID**

===#===

No disasters ensued during the night, but the elves were up and about bright and early, and looking for breakfast. It was a toss-up between going out and just getting some breakfast, or staying in and trying to make something. Which would be more tiring? Which would be more trying? It was going to be a long day.

Ianto would need more eggs, more bacon, yet more bread, and a crate of pancake mix. How could such small stomachs put so much away? Ianto started with coffee. He fended the elves off of _that_. Lord knows what a shot of caffeine would do to them when mere candy sent them into twenty-four hours of hyperactivity. Add that to the list: decaf!

When they got in at the Hub, Ianto stole a few quiet minutes at his desk to draw up a short list of mini-training modules. Jack came by and reminded him that they needed to get the elves to submit to a physical exam. That went dutifully on the list.

"They need ID and keycards," Ianto said. "We should probably teach them about phones, as well."

"They'll need weapons training."

"Urgh. As long as I don't have to do it." He glanced up at his boss. "And as long as you're careful."

"Hey, when am I not?" Jack ignored Ianto's opinionated snort. "I think Gwen can handle teaching them to drive."

"Oh, you are _not_ serious!"

"What?"

"I don't know what is scarier. Elves with guns, or elves behind the wheel." Ianto actually shuddered. "Can we at least go slowly with the dangerous things?"

"Okay, what do you suggest?" Jack asked.

"Well, they can clean up and do maintenance around the Hub." Ianto chewed his lip in thought. "You can give them that assignment. Every time I try to get them to do work, they dodge out of it."

"I told you, you're too soft on them. You can't let them walk all over you."

That was easy for Jack to say. He exuded commanding leader vibes.

The captain turned as the proximity alarms started up when the others arrived. "Set up the IDs with Tosh. I'll talk to Owen about the exam."

===#===

"Okay, Zevran," Tosh said, "sit here." She waved towards a stool set up in front of a blue pull-down screen. The elf complied. Bannon hovered, watching, with the Gwen and Ianto. Toshiko adjusted the camera, then turned to her workstation. "Look straight ahead."

"As you wish, _carida_."

"And try not to blink."

The flash went off, and the elf leapt backwards with a yelp. He got tangled up in the stool and fell over. Gwen and Ianto burst out laughing. Tosh clamped down on her amusement, but even Bannon was snickering at his hapless friend.

Zevran, face flushed, picked himself up, muttering foreign imprecations.

"Sorry!" Tosh said. "Sorry, I should have said there would be a flash of light. That was my fault."

Ianto followed Gwen around to see the photo on the screen. It perfectly captured the blond elf in mid-leap, his eyes wide, his hair flying, the startled look on his face priceless. Gwen laughed again. "This one is a keeper!"

"I want that on my desktop," Ianto said.

Bannon joined them. "How did you make that?"

"What?" Zevran righted the stool and came around to see what everyone was looking at.

"Nothing," Bannon was quick to tell him. "You don't want to see." He tried to intercept the other elf, but it was too late.

Zevran pushed past him. "What is this?" he demanded.

"It's you," said Gwen.

"It is not me. Certainly there is no way I could ever look like that."

"That has got to be the funniest I've ever seen you," said Bannon, cracking a grin. Zevran punched him in the arm. "Ow!" Undaunted, the brunette elf turned to Toshiko. "But how did you paint that so fast?"

Ianto was just starting to answer, "Digital photography," when Jack ambled up and said, "Magic." Ianto eyed him.

Jack shrugged. "Same difference."

Meanwhile, Toshiko said to Zevran, "Please take a seat again. Stay still this time so it can get a proper picture."

The elf perched on the stool and stayed stock still, unblinking. He almost could have been a wax sculpture. The flash went off once more, and he remained staring with all his might.

"There," Toshiko said, "that's you done."

Ianto said, "Can't we leave him that way a bit longer?" He really could appreciate motionless, silent elves.

"Maybe next time. Bannon, you're up."

The elves swapped places. Zevran said, "I want to see this one!"

Toshiko brought the image up on the screen. "There, that should meet your approval."

"Hmm... I am quite dashing."

"If you do say so yourself," Ianto added. Which the elf did. Constantly.

"Tell me about this magic. Can it create a painting of anything?"

"Anything it can see," Jack told him.

Ianto said, "It's not a painting, it's a photograph. Light enters the camera lens and creates an image on the media inside, in the same way light creates an image inside your eye."

Zevran chewed on this explanation while Bannon got his photo done. "I demand you make a photo-graph of Bannon looking excessively stupid."

"Good luck with that," the other elf said, coming around to see his picture. "Oh yeah, watch out, ladies!"

Jack leaned close to Ianto and said, "Should we tell them about the cameras in the phones?"

Ianto's eyes went wide. "Oh God, no." Images of the most juvenile pictures flashed through his mind. "I mean... we don't want to overwhelm an confuse them all at once." A slower schedule, that's what they needed.

"Confused about what?" Bannon asked, looking over.

Ianto winced. Damned elven hearing.

Jack grinned. "Phones."

Bannon and Zevran looked at each other a moment. Then back at Jack. "Phones?"

===_X_===


	4. Orientation: Phones

**Dragon Age: Torchwood Episode Two "Pointy-Eared Street Punks"**

**Chapterlet 3.2: Orientation: Phones**

_CONTENT:_

Rating: Teen

Flavor: Action/Adventure/Comedy/Drama

Language: maybe

Violence: no

Nudity: no

Sex: no

Other: none

Number of Gratuitous Jack Deaths: 0/0

_Author's Notes:_

Another ninja chapterlet. Enjoy!

* * *

**Phones**

===#===

Jack and Ianto took the elves up to Jack's office. Ianto retrieved the mobile phones he'd procured for the elves to use. "These are your phones. That's short for 'telephone.' Also known as mobile, or cell phones." He turned them on and checked which was which before handing them over.

Bannon and Zevran turned the small electronic devices in their hands, puzzlement furrowing their brows.

Jack said, "This is how we contact each other over long distances. Everyone's phone has a number. To make it easy, Ianto's programmed your phones with all of them. Star-1 is me. Star-0 will connect you to the Hub's main line." He ran down everyone else's speed-dial number while Ianto showed the elves how to activate the numberpad and where the star was. "You can reach them wherever they are, as long as they have their phone. So keep yours with you at all times."

Ianto contemplated telling them about the GPS trackers as well. Then thought better of it. Jack headed out of the office, while Ianto finished explaining the concept of dialing and phone numbers. "You're assigned to Star-6," he told Bannon, "and Star-7." He nodded at Zevran.

"Why am I last?" the blond elf wanted to know.

"Because I outrank you," his partner said.

"Nonsense! My number is bigger than all of yours! I have the biggest-"

"Mouth, right."

Ianto continued, ignoring their sidebar. "If you don't remember who is what number, you can do a search by name."

Suddenly, Bannon's phone emitted a trill. The elf jumped and nearly dropped it.

"Careful! Now, see the screen? It should tell you who is calling."

"Captain Jack?" the elf read, a dubious frown on his face.

"Now press here to pick up." Ianto pointed at the interface buttons that lit up.

Bannon poked it with a finger. "Uh..." Ianto mimed how to hold it, and the elf copied him stiffly.

"_When you pick up the phone, you traditionally say 'Hello,'"_ Jack said on the other end of the line.

"Hello?"

"_Yeah, you're a natural, kid. Are you holding it close enough? You're not very loud._"

Bannon gingerly moved the device closer to his head. "Like this?"

"_That's better. When you're done, you press the disconnect button to hang up._"

"Hang up?"

Ianto leaned over and showed him the proper button. Bannon gamely poked it and stared at the phone.

Zevran's phone rang, and he jumped, but he recovered quickly and pretended nonchalance. He eyed it, found the 'Answer' button, and put it up to his ear. "Hello?"

"_Hey, sexy; how's it hangin'?_"

"What does that mean, exactly?"

"_Just like it sounds._"

"And... how does one answer that?" Zevran glanced over at Bannon, who was doing something on his own phone.

"_Just like if someone asks you how you're doing. With the added benefit that you can let them know if you're feeling particularly frisky._"

"Ha ha, well, it is hanging just fine, thank you."

"What?" Bannon was saying into his phone. "Hello?"

Ianto interceded. "You can't talk to him right now, he's on the phone to Zevran. You've gone to his voice mail."

"Voice mail?"

"Not mail as in armor. Mail as in letters and missives. You can leave him a message."

"I don't see how." Bannon frowned at the contraption.

"No, not a written message. You just talk. It's a recording."

"What's a recording?"

Ianto just face-palmed.

"Like... a scribe?" Bannon was still gamely trying to puzzle it out.

"Yes, and no. Look, hang up now, and I'll have Jack show you."

"What's this obsession with hanging and hanging up?" the elf wanted to know, casting a suspicious glance at his partner, who was sniggering at whatever the captain was saying on the other end of the line.

Ianto deftly avoided the question by pretending not to hear it. "Now watch this; I'll send Jack a text." He got out his phone and manipulated the numberpad to spell out 'CM IN W/ VM.'

"What language is that?" Bannon asked, peering over Ianto's arm.

"It's text speak. It's rather abbreviated."

The door opened and Jack came in. "You left me a voice message? I'm touched."

"If you could play it back for them, sir."

Jack turned on speaker mode and retrieved the voice message. The elves stared, utterly flabbergasted.

"How do you do that!?" Zevran asked, nearly squealing in amazement.

"It's me talking," Bannon breathed.

"And Ianto, too. It is everything you said, exactly how you said it!"

Ianto said, "It's very, very complicated."

Jack said, "It's magic."

Which made Ianto facepalm again. "You really shouldn't tell them that, sir."

Zevran cocked his head. "You keep saying magic does not exist in this world. And then you have things like this! And that... micro-wave. And the tee-vee. And those computers!"

"It's technology," Ianto explained wearily. "Not magic."

"What is technology?"

"Mechanical and electronic devices, built by man."

The elves just stared.

Jack looked at him. "You're the one always complaining how hard it is to explain everything to them. Just saying 'it's magic' is easier."

Ianto sighed.

===_X_===


End file.
